


the poisoned youth

by vulcanistics



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Idols, Blood, Dark, Gen, Killing, Kinda..., Knives, Minor Character Death, Minor Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Moral Ambiguity, Murder, Violence, Weapons, idolverse except it borrows from the murder vibes of dark academia, set in 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/pseuds/vulcanistics
Summary: From the moment Ten walked into the dorm and found five boys around a dead body, he knew what he would have to do.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten & NCT Dream Ensemble, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 181
Collections: Challenge #5 — I heard a secret..





	the poisoned youth

**Author's Note:**

> **warning:** this fic deals with the aftermath of a murder committed by teenagers. it contains references to implied/past murders, mentions of blood, mentions of knives and death, as well as, lies and secrets. 
> 
> title and epigraph are from centuries by fall out boy. beta read by [keylimefloat](https://twitter.com/keylimefloat).

> Mummified my teenage dreams  
>  No, it’s nothing wrong with me  
>  The kids are all wrong, the story’s all off 

The knife by Jisung’s foot catches a ray of sunlight through the open window, reflecting onto Ten's ashen face. 

Ten closes his eyes. He wants to be dreaming, caught in a bad nightmare where the kids are as guilty as everyone around them, where they too have blood on their hands—unknowingly replicating history. When he opens his eyes, nothing has changed. A man lies on the floor of their dorm, illuminated by the glow of sunlight pouring through the window. Blood pools around his head. Through the rips of his jeans, Ten sees Jaemin's knees stained with dried blood. A streak of blood paints Renjun’s cheek.

“What happened?” Ten asks, crouching down to look at the man’s face.

Kneeling opposite him, with his hands pressed to the wound in the man's neck, Jisung chokes on a sob. His hands shake. He looks up at Ten, wide-eyed with tears streaming down his face. It reminds Ten of the first time he found Johnny with a body at his feet. He remembers pushing Johnny down to wind his arms around him, pulling him flush against his chest and pressing kisses against the back of his neck. 

Here, Chenle pulls Jisung's hands away from the body. 

“He’s dead, Jisungie. Come on. Stop.”

“Ten hyung, he—” Jisung weeps, leaning against Chenle. 

The hem of Chenle’s sweater is stained a blurred red from where he has wiped his hands. How unfortunate, Ten thinks. He’s certain Kun bought Chenle that sweater. He’s going to be disappointed about its loss.

“It was an accident. We didn’t mean to—” Jeno pauses and shifts closer to Jaemin.

Jaemin continues for him, knuckles white from where he’s gripping the phone in his hand, “Kill him. We didn’t mean to kill him, Ten hyung.”

Ten studies them over the rim of his glasses. His gaze sweeps from Jisung to Chenle to Jeno to Jaemin to Renjun.

It was a holiday for Dream. The dorm aunties were given a day off, as were most of the managers; only Manager Kim Sanghun, the new manager added to NCT Dream’s team last week, was supposed to be at the dorm, keeping an eye on them—and now he’s dead. 

There’s a bloodied steam iron near Jeno's feet, a knife next to Jisung and Chenle, and a knife in Renjun’s hand that Ten realises he’s seen with Sicheng. Renjun drops the knife when he notices Ten’s eyes are fixed on him. It clatters to the floor. Jisung flinches at the harsh sound.

“We were scared, Ten hyung. We were scared and he—”

“He talked about the aftermath of Dream. About the end of Dream,” Chenle cuts Renjun off. His eyes burn with a cold fury. “Talked about Mark.”

Ten freezes. Chenle says Mark’s name with the assurance of someone who knows there is little Ten would not do for the people he loves. Ten meets Chenle’s gaze; the beginnings of a rueful smile tugging at his lips. Chenle thinks Mark is the final push Ten needs to get him to care. He’s wrong. He does not realise Ten already cares.

From the moment Ten walked into the dorm and found five boys around a dead body, he knew what he would have to do. He would have done it anyway; he did not need Chenle throwing Mark's name at him, like an incentive to clean up their mess, like a fish hook sinking into the flesh of his already bleeding heart.

There is little Ten would not do for the people he loves.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ten says, his fingers wrapping around the man’s jaw to tilt his face up. His grip is bruising and unforgiving. “It’s okay. That is all I need to know.”

Ten pats the body down—hands skimming past bloodstains. He pauses at the waist, dipping his hand into the pocket of the man's jeans to pull out a metro pass, a scribbled list of Dream’s upcoming activities on a crumpled post-it, tablets in an unopened blister pack, and a pen. Frowning, Ten sets them aside and sits back on his haunches. There is an item noticeably absent.

“Where's his phone?”

“Here,” Jaemin says, averting his eyes as he holds out the phone in his hand to Ten. “This is his phone.”

Ten frowns, but without saying a word, he takes it from Jaemin. An image of what unfolded in their dorm develops in Ten’s head, but it shifts in and out of focus like a blurred polaroid. Refusing to dwell on it, he studies the phone instead. It is mostly clean, save for the flecks of blood on the back. There are no unread notifications or missed calls. The lock screen is a nondescript photo of the sky. Ten wonders who will miss Kim Sanghun. 

Looking back at the body, Ten considers it. It is bigger than him, heavier with broader shoulders; yet it is not the biggest body he’s ever had to take care of. 

He’s not concerned about the body; that part is fine. He’s good at what he does, he can take care of it. He’s more worried about leaving Jisung, Chenle, Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno unattended with blood still on their hands and clothes. He cannot look after the five of them and take care of the body simultaneously. He does not want them to be witness to the disposal of the body. 

It would have been nice if Kun was around. Kun was kind and gentle with the kids. He would have smiled amicably as he washed the blood from their hands, and prepared their favourite meal for them, making sure none of them thought too long and too hard about the way the shadow of death slinked around their ankles. Unfortunately, for Ten, Kun was out with Xuxi, Jungwoo and Kunhang, so he would need someone else. 

If he were to call Taeyong, Taeyong would come. If he were to call Johnny, Johnny would come. But they were both unavailable. Ten had received a text from Johnny a few minutes before he had reached their dorm building—something about he and Taeyong working with Mark in the studio. 

The answer comes to him in a sudden moment of clarity. If you needed someone to get rid of the evidence of an accident, you went to Ten or Taeil; but if you needed someone to calm you down and drag you out from a sticky web of panic and guilt, you went to Doyoung. He cared deeply. He was kind, level-headed, sensible and ruthless. Doyoung understood survival and desperation. 

Standing back up, Ten turns to Jeno. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I need you to call Doyoung hyung.”

Jeno’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“No!” Renjun yelps, frantically shaking his head. “Hyung, he can’t do that.” 

“Doyoung hyung can’t know about—” Jaemin says, gesturing at the body on the floor.

“It will be alright, trust me,” Ten says, reaching out to squeeze Jeno's shoulder. “Jeno. You have to ask him to come over. Alone. Tell him it’s important.”

“Why?” Jisung voices the question Ten can see on their faces. “Why do we need Doyoung hyung? Can’t you take care of it?”

“I can and I will. But someone has to be with you. I don’t want you to be alone.” Ten replies. He does not say he’s reluctant to have them in the room with him, watching him while he disposes of the body.

“Why can’t you call him? Why does Jeno have to?” Chenle asks. 

There are many ways he could respond but Ten settles for the simplest reason, and it is the only one that matters at the moment. “He will answer Jeno’s call faster than he will answer mine.”

The furrow between Chenle’s brows deepens and Jeno sighs heavily but they don’t argue any further.

“It’s going to be alright. You don’t have to worry about Doyoung. He’ll understand. He will help.” Ten says with a smile. Nodding at Jeno, he continues, “Let’s go wash your hands and then, you’ll call Doyoung.”

Doyoung’s voice over the intercom announces his arrival. When Ten opens the door, he’s shrugging his coat off his shoulders to hold it in his arms. His cheeks are flushed pink as though he ran to the dorm. 

“Ten.” Doyoung frowns, shaking his hair out of his face. “Jeno didn’t say you were home. I had to excuse myself from vocal practice because Jeno said there was an emergency. What happened? Is he okay?”

“Not exactly.” Ten drawls, glancing back over his shoulder into the dorm. From where they are standing, Doyoung cannot see the body.

Doyoung narrows his eyes at Ten but he does not wait for him to elaborate, pushing past him to stride into the dorm. Closing the door behind him, Ten sighs when he hears Doyoung’s reaction to the body—an audible choked gasp, the sound of buttons hitting the floor as Doyoung lets his coat fall from his arms. 

Spinning around to glare at Ten, Doyoung hisses. “In the Dream dorm? What is wrong with you?" 

“I would never,” retorts Ten, bristling at the accusation. 

Before Ten can say anything more, before he can lash out at Doyoung and hurt him, Jeno intervenes, curling his hand around Doyoung's elbow. 

“Hyung, Doyoung hyung, Ten hyung didn’t do anything. It was us. It was an accident. We didn’t mean to. Ten hyung didn’t do anything.”

The colour drains from Doyoung’s face as he stares at Jeno. Without shaking Jeno’s hand away, he turns his head to survey the room. His eyes slide from the steam iron to the knives to the teenagers. Coming to stand next to him, Ten sees the exact moment Doyoung’s face falls. Grief pools in Doyoung’s eyes when he looks back at Ten.

They have both been privy to too many accidents that were never accidents, but if the boys said it was an accident, then it was an accident. They will believe them. It is the cost of survival. It is the cost of love.

Ten flashes Doyoung a bitter and rueful smile. He wonders how none of them noticed the kids had been pushed to the edge of a precipice from where there was no coming back. Ten thinks of Renjun holding Sicheng’s knife.

“What do you need me to do?” Doyoung asks.

“Get them cleaned up and then, get them out of here. Take the clothes with you.”

“Fine, I can do that.”

“Hyung,” Jeno says quietly, hands still tight around Doyoung’s elbow. Doyoung smiles, his face softening as he raises his hand to cup Jeno's cheek. The boy leans into his hand, eyes glistening with tears. 

“Hyung, we’re sorry. We didn’t think—”

“It’s going to be alright. Ten will take care of it. He’s good.”

By the time they finish, emerging fresh-faced from the shower and wearing clean outfits, Ten has gathered everything he needs. 

“I’m going to take them out for ice cream,” Doyoung announces, barely sparing a glance at the pile of cleaning supplies at Ten’s feet. He’s holding the bag of soiled clothes to his chest

Ten nods. “I’ll see you in two hours.” 

The sun begins its descent in the sky, the rays of sunlight retreating away from the dorm room, shrouding it in darkness. Ten pulls out his phone to call his manager and begins the task at hand.

When they return, Doyoung and Chenle are not with them—Doyoung returning to his dorm and Chenle heading back home. However, Mark and Haechan follow them into the dorm. Ten is prepared for it though. He had received a message from Renjun saying that they had run into Mark and Haechan on their way back and that the two of them would be coming over. The distinct smell of air freshener lingers in the dorm.

“Ten hyung!” Haechan shouts in delight, running to the dining table to throw his arms around Ten. “Did you know we were coming? Is that why you made so much food?” 

Ten pinches Haechan's arm lightly before gesturing at the numerous food delivery boxes on the table. “You know very well I'm not going to cook for you. Now, sit down and eat." 

They pull more chairs to the table so that they can all sit and eat dinner together. They open the boxes, peering into them to see what Ten has ordered for them. Chopsticks get passed around the table. Ten can tell they're making a conscientious effort to not look at the space where the body was, but sometimes, their eyes flit to it. Jisung's eyes linger, clouding over, but Jaemin nudges him under the table to draw him back.

“Hey,” Mark says, swallowing a mouthful of rice. “Wasn't the new manager—what was his name? Kim Sanghun, right? Wasn't he supposed to be here today?”

There's a lull in conversation—an awkward silence that’s broken by Haechan whacking his hand against Mark's shoulder. 

“I knew I forgot to tell you something. Yeah, he resigned today. I heard some of the managers talking about it when we were leaving.” 

“Damn? Already? Didn't he join last week?” Mark asks, incredulous.

Jeno shrugs. “Must have realised idol life wasn’t for him.”

“Maybe he realised we were too much to handle,” Haechan says. “Or maybe you guys scared him away.”

A grin spreads across Renjun's face. It is sharp and pointed, a dangerous thing. “Maybe we did.” 

Haechan snorts and rolls his eyes. The conversation picks up after that with Haechan and Renjun dissolving into an argument about what movie they should watch together. Jaemin has his phone out, scrolling through a list of recommended movies, while Jeno looks over his shoulder and reads out suggestions.

Ten meets Mark’s dark and considering eyes, fixed on him from across the table. The corner of Mark’s lips twitch. Ten smiles and Mark smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic insinuates, implies and leaves a lot of things unsaid. dream are unreliable narrators of the circumstances surrounding the manager's death. everyone has secrets, everyone lies. it is a part of a much larger narrative of murder, survival, competition and friendship. an idolverse fic that borrows from the vibes and themes of dark academia. someday, maybe i will write about all the other events that happen in this verse, all the characters, and the things they do and have done. 
> 
> for now though, thank you for reading this piece. please do leave kudos or comments with your thoughts <3


End file.
